


We'll Leave This Place Alive

by BlaiddGwyn (dragonLeighs)



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Blood and Injury, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Injured Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Whumptober 2020, at least a little bit in chapter 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonLeighs/pseuds/BlaiddGwyn
Summary: Jaskier is kidnapped and held for ransom while Geralt is out on a contract. The witcher sets out to rescue his bard but things are never simple.Written for Whumptober 2020
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947397
Comments: 13
Kudos: 167
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Shackled

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done any writing challenge as big as whumptober before so I'm hoping things go well. All of this is already written but I'll be posting the chapters on the days they correspond with their prompts.
> 
> This fic covers days 1, 2, 3, 5 & 11
> 
> Inspiration for this chapter is the Day 1 theme: Lets hang out some time.
> 
> If you think anything should be tagged but isn't, please let me know in the comments or on my tumblr.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

The first thing Jaskier noticed was the pain. In his groggy, half-awake state, he wasn’t entirely sure where it was coming from, just that it was difficult to focus on anything else. The second thing he noticed was that he was standing. Or at least, he was upright. His feet touched the ground, knees bent, not taking any of his weight. That’s when he realised most of the pain was coming from his arms.

He cracked his eyes open to see the dirty stone floor. He shifted, sending a spike of pain through his shoulders and back. His wrists were bound and suspended above his head, all his weight resting on the metal cuffs, cutting into his skin. Blood had trickled down his arms, painting rivers of red on his skin down to his bare chest. He bit back a cry as he moved, trying to get his feet under him to take the strain off. It was agonising as he carefully took his weight off his arms, straightening as much as the chains would allow, his strained muscles screaming at the abuse.

He had to stand still for a monent to simply breathe through the agony. Now that some feeling other than pain was returning to his hands, Jaskier finally took in his surroundings. He was in a small room, smooth stone on all sides, broken up only by a wooden door to his right. There was a small window near the ceiling, barred off and only allowing a sliver of light to see by.

He wracked his brain, trying to remember what had happened for him to end up here. He’d been waiting at the tavern while Geralt had gone out on a contract but after that things got blurry. He thought he could maybe recall there being some men who had threatened him but there was nothing after that. Although that likely explained the pounding in the back of his head.

He shivered in the cool air of the room, sending tremors through his already aching muscles. There wasn’t anything he could do but wait for whoever had captured him to show up. Or for Geralt to find him, whichever, happened first. Hopefully the latter.

He looked down at himself, trying to judge the state he was in in the dim light. His torso was covered in a smattering of dark bruises and shallow cuts, indicating he had taken a beating at some point. Was that why they had taken his chemise and doublet, so they could have some fun with a human punching bag? He didn’t want to think about it too much. Some of the blood from his wrists had run down his arms to his chest and dried, sticking his body hair to him so that it itched and pulled with every slight movement. It was trivial compared with the pain in his arms and back, but uncomfortable nonetheless. He thankfully still had his boots and trousers, ripped and bloody as they were. It offered at least some protection from the chilly air of his cell.

He stood there for what felt like hours, waiting to see what was going to happen to him next. He watched as the sliver of light from the window tracked across the wall in front of him, his only way to measure time. He couldn’t hear anything or one beyond the door. It felt as though the world had ceased to exist beyond his cell, although the now fading sunlight assured him the world was still turning.

He had fallen into an uneasy doze while still on his feet some time after darkness had truly descended when the clunk of a lock startled him awake. The door swung open with a creak, bathing the room in torchlight. A large man approached him and Jaskier instinctively tired to back away. The man grabbed his wrists and untied the rope keeping his arms suspended.

Jaskier was unprepared for the weight of his arms finally dropping and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as his muscles burned with the change in position. The man then seized his still bound wrists before he could do anything and practically yanked him forward, leading him out of the cell.

Jaskier couldn’t hold back the strangled cry of pain at the abuse of his strained muscles. He kept up the swift pace the man set so as to avoid any more pulling, although he never let him go. He tried to pay attention to where they were heading, hoping it might give him the chance to escape if the opportunity arose but the concussion he was sure he had was making that difficult, especially since all the corridors looked near identical, save for the narrow stairs he was led up.

He didn’t have long to ponder their destination when they suddenly arrived at a large hall. Before he could really take it in, he was shoved forward, causing him to stumble. He managed to regain his footing, avoiding an unfortunate meeting with the uneven stone floor. He looked up at his surroundings and immediately locked eyes with golden irises.


	2. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt gets back from his hunt only to find Jaskier is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for whumptober day 2 prompt: kidnapping

When Geralt returned to the tavern, there was no sign of Jaskier. Which wasn’t necessarily something to worry about, the bard often went off by himself to spend a night in someone else’s bed. It was only notable because before Geralt had left, the bard had assured him he would be waiting for him, ready to patch him up if need be. And Jaskier had never broken that promise.

So, whith that in mind, when the bard was no where in sight Geralt couldn’t help but worry. He wasn’t performing as he usually would. The tavern was loud with conversation but there were no songs. He went up to the barkeep to ask if he’d seen Jaskier. It took a while for the man to notice him, busy serving other customers, but he knew nothing.

Geralt made his way up to their shared room. Perhaps the bard was waiting there. The room however was empty. He was about to go back downstairs when he caught a glimpse of something pale sitting on the bed. It was a torn piece of parchment, folded in half and with his name scrawled on the front. The handwriting was unfamiliar, sending another wave of worry curling through his gut.

He unfolded it.

_Witcher, we have your bard. Come to the castle by dawn with 500 crowns or you’ll never see him again._

Worry turned to panic. The castle they’d mentioned had sat abandoned for a number of years. It wasn’t far from this town from what he remembered. He could get there within an hour if he pushed Roach. He had no intention of paying the ransom, even if he had the money to do so. They had taken his bard, they would pay for that with their blood.

Swapping his silver sword for steel, he marched back out to the stables. The sun had set already but the darkness was no problem for him. He felt bad for Roach who he had only just got settled in the stable. He was sure she would forgive him when they got Jaskier back.

She huffed at him as he readier her in her tack, displeased at being taken back out into the cold night. She seemed to understand his urgency however as she didn’t make things difficult for him, standing still as he secured her saddle. He led her outside before pulling himself into the saddle and spurring her on, leading them down the road disappearing into the forest.

As he suspected, it only took an hour to reach the castle. He pulled Roach to a stop before the castle fully came into view, tying her reins to a low hanging branch. On the journey to get here, he had come up with several plans to get Jaskier out. Seeing the castle crawling with guards patrolling the area, he decided he would need to head straight in and act as though he intended to cooperate. Let them think they had the upper hand then once he had Jaskier, he would cut them down.

He took an empty pouch from his pocket and made his way to a nearby stream to fill it with pebbles. It wouldn’t fool anyone as soon as he handed it over but it at least made it seem as though he intended to pay the ransom. Pouch secured to his belt, he circled back around to the crumbled gate and went inside.

He was spotted almost immediately, finding himself surrounded by several men, swords drawn. “I’ve come for the bard,” he growled.

“You got the coin?” one man asked.

Geralt pulled the pouch off his belt, holding it up for the men to see. The one who had spoken gave him a curt nod. “Bring him in. Don’t try any funny business,” he said, pointing a finger at the witcher.

Still surrounded, he was led inside, down a few passageways until they finally emerged in a large hall. The ceiling had partially collapsed but otherwise the hall was much like any other. “The witcher has come to pay the ransom,” the man announced as he entered.

There were two men near the back of the room who turned to them then. “Excellent. Hand over the coin then and we’ll give you the bard.”

“I want to see him first. Make sure he’s still alive.” He glared at the man who appeared to be the leader here, if his attitude was anything to go by.

“You don’t get to make demands, witcher,” he hissed.

“Then you won’t get a single coin from me.” They stared each other down, neither willing to yield. Eventually the leader looked to one of the men behind Geralt.

“Go get him,” he said, gesturing his head to a door behind him. His lackey picked up a torch from the wall and disappeared down the narrow corridor.

The atmosphere remained tense. The bandits still surrounding him kept their hands resting on the pommels of their swords. It seemed they weren’t as stupid as he had initially suspected, although they were fools to think they could get away with kidnapping Jaskier.

Eventually he heard two sets of approaching footsteps. The bandit emerged, the torch in one hand, Jaskier’s bound wrists in the other. He pulled the bard along behind him before shoving him forward. He stumbled, tripping on the uneven stone and almost falling to the floor. He was missing his shirt, giving Geralt a view of his skin covered in blood and bruises. It was clear he was in a lot of pain. Despite that, he managed to appear as though he was unbothered by the rough treatment, casting his gaze around the hall. Immediately blue eyes locked on to Geralt and the witcher could just detect the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Right, now that’s settled, let’s get down to business,” the leader said, clapping his hands together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](https://blaidd-gwyn.tumblr.com/)


	3. Kneel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier find themselves in a sticky situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for whumptober day 3 prompt: forced to their knees
> 
> There's a single line where the bandit leader comments on keeping Jaskier as a pet but nothing happens with that. Just felt like I should let you know.

“As you can see, witcher, the bard is alive, if not unharmed.” Jaskier watched as the man, likely the leader, stated. “So, where’s the money?”

Jaskier watched as Geralt held up a pouch. It looked to be full but Jaskier knew that money had been tight recently. He had no idea what demands the bandits had made but they had been on their last few coins before Geralt had taken the last contract. Even that had only been worth a little over one hundred crowns. No where near enough to fill the pouch. Which meant Geralt was bluffing. He just hoped there was a plan beyond “cut them down and hope for the best” because in his current state, Jaskier would only be a liability.

Jaskier tensed, prepared for whatever was about to happen as Geralt tossed the pouch over. As soon as the leader caught it, a scowl crossed his face. Geralt drew his sword and the bandits around them followed suit. The one who had dragged him out of his cell grabbed a fistful of his hair before he could move, yanking his head back and delivering a swift kick to the back of his knee, causing him to fall.

His knees collided with he stone, sending a shockwave of pain through him, almost enough to distract from the fact that there was now a knife held to his throat. The cool metal pressed against his skin, not yet enough to break it but enough to let him know exactly what would happen if he tried to do anything. Geralt notice this and lowered his sword slowly. “Drop it,” the leader commanded. When Geralt hesitated, Jaskier felt the tip of the knife cutting into his skin, sending a bead of blood running down his neck, burning hot against his chilled flesh.

Geralt dropped his sword, letting it fall with a clatter. The pressure at his throat lessened but didn’t disappear. Geralt looked back to him. Jaskier tried to convey some amount of reassurance that he was fine with just a look. He wasn’t sure if Geralt understood his message but seemed almost calm when he returned his attention to the leader.  
“You tried to trick me,” he said, mock hurt in his voice.

“You kidnapped my bard.”

“If only you had simply given us the money. Then you might both have left here alive.”

“I don’t have five hundred crowns to give. And even if I did, you wouldn’t see a single coin of it,” he spat at the man.

They had asked five hundred crowns for Jaskier? It was no wonder Geralt had tricked them if that was what they wanted. He just hoped there was more to this plan than them both having their throats slit.

The leader shrugged. “Your mistake witcher. We can just kill you right here and it would be no great loss to us. Or the rest of the continent for that matter. Shame about your friend though.” He turned, taking a few measured steps closer to where Jaskier knelt. “I actually liked some of his songs. Maybe I’ll keep him, as a pet bard.”

Geralt growled, causing some of the bandits surrounding him to shuffle back. Jaskier would rather be killed than be kept as some lunatic’s pet. The leader stopped in front of him and crouched down. The knife disappeared but the fist in his hair remained. He grabbed Jaskier’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. Jaskier spat at him, pleased to see it land on his cheek.

He pulled away, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “Maybe I’ll just wash my hands of you both right now,” he said. The knife returned, pressed against him neck more firmly than before. Geralt remained where he was, surrounded by the rest of the bandits, swords still drawn.

Jaskier was forced to look away as his head was pulled back, exposing his throat. This was it, he thought, this was how he died. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, although it would do him little good. The knife pressed harder, biting into his neck. He closed his eyes. His whole world shrank down to that single, biting sensation of the cold metal.

There was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. The pressure of the knife disappeared and he tipped forward as the hand gripping his hair released. He snapped his eyes open, raising a bound hand to his neck. There was a slight line where he’d been cut, dribbling blood sluggishly, but he was otherwise still whole.

He focussed on the hall once more. Geralt had a sword in hand, though he couldn’t be sure it was his own, and was fighting off the bandits that had swarmed him. He turned around to find the man who had kept him in place was lying on the ground, a small dagger protruding from his neck.

Jaskier had no time to really process that and simply started searching him for the ring of keys he’d used to open his cell door, hoping the key to his shackles was with them. He pulled the keys free and tried the first one. It didn’t fit. He tried the second. Still no luck. The third fit and with a quick twist, the cuff fell free. He hurriedly unlocked the second, sparing a glance to where Geralt was still fighting. The witcher had managed to keep himself in the centre of the room and several bodies lay bleeding at his feet.

Once free of the shackles, Jaskier pulled the dagger free of the bandit’s throat with a sickening sound. He may not be much use in a fight like this but at least he could defend himself if someone came after him. He began edging his way along the wall, trying to get closer to the way out. Geralt noticed this and he too began backing up toward the door. “Stop them! Don’t let them leave!” the leader’s voice boomed above the din of clashing swords. Geralt took that as his cue to cut down the men in his way and rushed toward Jaskier. “Go!”


	4. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier escape into the forest but are cut off from getting to Roach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me ages to edit, despite being a tiny chapter but here it is.
> 
> Written for whumptober day 5 prompt: on the run

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s wrist and pulled him along, running full tilt back down the passageway he had been led down before. He didn’t miss the way Jaskier sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, but he didn’t have time to think about that just yet. They ran until they emerged in the courtyard, only to run into the bandits who had been patrolling the perimeter coming toward them, no doubt having heard the sounds of fighting inside.

“This way,” the witcher said, guiding Jaskier to a gap in the wall. He knew there was only a short drop to the ground on the other side, nothing neither of them couldn’t handle. Jaskier went first, not even hesitating at the drop. He landed, not quite managing to keep his feet. Geralt had an easier landing and quickly pulled the bard to his feet, already rushing toward the treeline, carrying Jaskier forward with his momentum.

Some bandits were already jumping down behind them while others were circling around from the main entrance. The direction that Roach happened to be in. “Fuck. We need to lose them. Come on.”

They ran deeper into the forest. Geralt was glad for the cloud cover, bathing the trees in near complete dark. With his mutations, he had no trouble avoiding roots and debris in his path. Jaskier however had no such advantage and was blindly following Geralt, tripping up every now and then. Geralt kept a firm grip on his wrist, both to guide him through the night and to steady him every time he almost fell.

The dim light of the torches faded as they ran, as did the barked orders from the bandit leader. Only once Geralt was sure they were far enough away did he let them stop, releasing the bard's wrist from his grip. Jaskier was breathing hard, coughing and gasping as he bent over, hands on his knees.

Geralt noticed something wet and sticky on his palm. Blood. Jaskier’s blood. He remembered seeing the dried blood on his arms when he’d been brought into the hall. It must have been from where the shackles had cut into his skin. “Jaskier, your wrists.”

Jaskier, still panting, spared a glance at where Geralt had grabbed him. He gave a curt nod before dropping his head back down. Geralt didn’t have anything he could use right now to wrap around the injuries. He watched as blood slowly trickled down his fingers, staining his trousers where his hands rested on his knees still.

“Come on,” he said, indicating his head back the way they had come. “I think we’ve lost them now.” Jaskier’s breathing had returned somewhere close to normal. Jaskier gave him another nod, straightening up with a wince and moved to Geralt’s side.

The walk back toward the castle was relatively silent, save for Geralt giving the bard a warning about things he might trip up on and Jaskier’s cursing when he inevitably did. He stuck close to Geralt, letting the witcher lead him through the dark. Geralt tried his best to warn him of things that might get in his way but underestimated exactly how blind Jaskier really was in the dark.

They walked for perhaps ten minutes before Geralt caught the sound of some of the bandits. He held out his arm, signalling Jaskier to stop. They were still too far to be seen or heard so were in no danger of being spotted, but Geralt wanted to try and judge which direction they were moving. After a moment, he determined their voices were moving away from them. “This way,” he said to Jaskier, making a slight alteration to their path to take them in a wide arc around the bandits.

They continued on but the sounds of voices seemed ever present now. There was the faint glow of torchlight that appeared to their left, forcing them to move closer to the castle than Geralt was comfortable with to avoid being spotted.

They were close to Roach now, reaching the clearing where the castle sat. They would have to either cross it or go all the way around in order to get to his mare. Bandits were circling the perimeter, making it almost impossible to go around unnoticed. They had found a slight dip in the ground among the trees where they hid while Geralt formulated the next part of his plan.

“Can you run again?” the witcher asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Probably. Why?”

“Our best bet is to run straight through. Going around carries a high risk of being spotted and it’ll be harder for you to run since you can’t see. Going straight across means we will definitely be spotted but you can sprint. Most of the bandits still seem to be in the forest so there will be fewer eyes to avoid. Once we get to Roach, we can outrun them since they don’t seem to have horses.”

“Alright then.” There was determination in his eyes, as well as complete trust in Geralt. He didn’t know what he had done to earn that rust but he hoped he could live up to the bard’s expectations of him.

“On my mark,” he said, waiting for a bandit to wander behind a wall, one less to deal with. Once the light from his torch disappeared, he gave the signal.


	5. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier make a run for it to get to Roach but luck is not on their side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Day 11 whumptober prompt "struggling".

Jaskier took off at a sprint. Geralt was slightly ahead of him, clearly holding back for the bard’s benefit. They made about a third of the way across the clearing before the first shout echoed off the crumbling stone around them. Bandits came running toward them. Geralt led them around a corner, past the main entrance.

For a moment, Jaskier believed they were going to make it, if he just pushed himself a little harder, they’d reach Roach in time. That was until something collided with his back, sending him crashing to the ground. He let out a surprised cry, causing Geralt to stop and turn. His eyes widened and he came rushing back to Jaskier, but he had drifted too far ahead to close the gap between them in time.

A bandit had caught up to Jaskier, pinning him down with a knee on his back before he could scramble to his feet again. “Stop there, witcher,” the man ordered. He couldn’t see what the bandit was doing, the man’s knee diffing into his back, but it was enough to convince Geralt to stop several feet away, eyes like molten gold in the torchlight flicking between Jaskier and the bandit.

They were done for now. They would kill Jaskier and when his idiot witcher inevitably stayed in some misguided attempt to save him, he too would be cut down. Geralt’s throwing dagger was still tucked into the waistband of his trousers, if he could reach it, he may be able to get the bandit off him, buy them enough time to get to Roach.

He managed to wedge his arm under him, just enough to grasp the hilt of the dagger and pull it free. He had zoned out of the conversation taking place above him, the bandits yelling orders at Geralt. He locked eyes with Geralt, determination written on his face. Geralt seemed to know he was up to something if the slight change in his expression was anything to go by.

Without any warning, Jaskier summoned all his remaining strength and pushed up, sending the bandit off balance. It wasn’t much, just enough to allow him to twist around. But it was all he needed. He swung the dagger up in a blind arc. He felt the dagger connect before seeing red pouring over the bandit's face. He attacked again before the man could do anything to defend himself, buring the dagger in the man’s chest. He screamed, toppling off Jaskier to the ground, blood pouring out of the wound as the bard pulled the weapon free. He scrambled to his feet, rushing toward Geralt. The bandits were hot on his heels.

Just as he reached the witcher, he heard the clash of swords. Sparing a look back, he saw Geralt had narrowly blocked a blow to his back. Jaskier threw the dagger at one of the bandits, hitting him in the shoulder of his sword arm. “Geralt, let’s go!”

They turned and ran. Several crossbow bolts flew past them but thankfully none hit their mark. Once they hit the trees, they once again had the advantage as many of the bandits had dropped their torches when Jaskier had been taken down in preparation ot fight the witcher. Geralt once again grabbed his wrist and he couldn’t find it in himself to care about the fresh blood coating their hands.

It wasn’t long before Roach came into view. Jaskier practically jumped onto her back, just behind the saddle while Geralt untied the mare. The bandits were almost on them but Geralt blasted them with aard, sending them flying back into the trees. The witcher climbed into the saddle and they set off at a canter. There were very few bandits still chasing them at this point. Two more crossbow bolts came flying through the air. One sailed past harmlessly, burying itself in a tree. The other found its mark, hitting Jaskier in the shoulder, as though he didn’t hurt there enough already.

He let out a strangled cry, tightening his grip around Geralt’s middle. Once they broke through the trees and hit the road, Geralt spurred Roach on into a full gallop. “Jaskier?” he called back once he was certain they were no longer being chased.

“Bolt in my shoulder,” he murmured, just loud enough for the witcher to hear.

“Don’t pass out on me now bard. Just hold on.”

Knowing they were safe, Jaskier felt all the pain and exhaustion he had pushed to the back of his mind suddenly catching up, crashing over him like an enormous wave. He fought hard to keep his eyes open, watching as the blurry shadows of the trees flew by. They slowed down at some point to a trot. Two riders were already taxing enough for the poor mare, let alone at such a fast pace. It would do them no good to exhaust her and be stranded in the woods.

He wasn’t exactly sure how long they rode for but the town where they had been staying eventually came into view. Geralt dismounted outside a building before helping Jaskier down. The witcher made an alarmed face once he finally caught sight of the bolt that had penetrated his shoulder before half dragging him to the door. He pounded his fist against it several times before they were met by a middle-aged woman who looked none too happy to see them.

“He needs help. I have coin,” Geralt said before she could scold them for waking her.

The woman looked over Jaskier then. Geralt was supporting most of his weight, he felt dizzy and his whole body ached and yet somehow he just about managed a half-smile half-grimace. “In, quickly. Sit him on the bed,” she said, stepping aside to let them in.

* * *

Jaskier must have blacked out at some point because the next thing he knew, the sun was shining. He tried to sit up but found his arms were largely unresponsive. He looked around the small room. Geralt sat in a chair nearby, head back and snoring softly. Their escape came back to him and he remembered the bolt in his back. He could feel a bandage wrapped around his chest and shoulder and surmised the healer had been able to remove the bolt and patched him up.

There was really very little he could do in his current state other than try to wake the witcher. Not that he particularly wanted to. They were both exhausted and Geralt deserved to rest. Jaskier soon felt the pull of sleep once more and put up no resistance, knowing his witcher was near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this!
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](https://blaidd-gwyn.tumblr.com/)


End file.
